Sesquipedalian
by Rointheta
Summary: Watching Mary Poppins, the Doctor tells Rose all about how the titular character was based off a Time Lady. They start talking about what he misses from his home planet and, when the Doctor asks Rose what she's missing, one thing leads to another and becomes rather intimate.


_This is the thirteenth fic in my 2013 Advent Calendar!_

**Note:** This story is originally MA, but that rating isn't allowed here so I've edited down the smut to being less graphic. For those who want the uncut smut, this story is available on teaspoon, ao3, and my tumblr.

**prompt**: "Jareth the Goblin King ( or Mary Poppins or Hermione Granger you pick) is a Time Lord."  
**prompter**: naiadwrites  
**beta**: resile

* * *

**SESQUIPEDALIAN**

* * *

"Didn't that happen last year as well?" the Doctor asks, nodding at Jackie dozing in the armchair in front of the telly. "I think she even fell asleep during the same scene!"

"Yeah, yeah. She does this every year." Rose snickers. "All the presents are opened, Christmas dinner is eaten, she's had a bit to drink, and then she wants to watch _Mary Poppins_. Think I can count on one hand the number of times she's watched it without nodding off. She doesn't even like it! Thinks Bert is annoying. But it's a Tyler tradition, right, everyone on my dad's side of the family watches it on Christmas day, so after dad died… Dunno. Suppose it became important to her."

The Doctor hums and takes a sip of his tea. "Do you like it?"

"Oh, I _love_ it. Wanted to grow up to be Mary Poppins for the longest time."

"Who wouldn't? She's marvellous."

"I think you mean practically perfect in every way." Rose quirks an eyebrow at him and he indulges her with a smile. "And clever, confident, kind, gorgeous, has magical powers, and… Huh." She nibbles at her bottom lip, observing Mary pulling object after object out of her carpet bag. "That's bigger on the inside! Doctor, her bag's bigger on the inside!"

"Yep."

"Is she a Time Lord? She's a Time Lord, isn't she? I mean, look at her. Not exactly humble, is she?"

"Oi!"

"And she whizzes in and out of people's lives. And her chameleon circuit has her TARDIS stuck as an umbrella! Or, ooh," she says, pulling her legs up in the sofa and shifting to face him, "is it a sonic umbrella? Why's this never occurred to me before? Must've seen this film twenty times by now."

"Well, you're actually right."

"No!" She slaps his arms, mouth hanging open. "You're having me on."

"Nope. That character's based on Mariendirmullianpoppinsar. Famous outcast on my home planet."

"No! You're joking."

He laughs. "Mariendirmullianpoppinsar was very curious about humans and spent quite some time on Earth. She loved children and used to bring them out on adventures in other dimensions."

"Okay. That's a bit irresponsible of her, though, innit? Mind you, you're not exactly the most responsible person I've met."

"She took them to _safe_ dimensions, of course. And I might have a knack for finding trouble, but neither I nor the TARDIS would ever bring children someplace dangerous! Anyway, she went by Marie Popp and–"

"Good call. Didn't really have a name that's easy to pronounce, did she? Is that the kind of names your people had?"

"Well, a good friend of mine was called Romanadvoratrelundar."

"Oh, my god. And I thought Raxacoricofallapatorius was bad. Oh!" She grabs his arm. "Don't tell me. Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious is Time Lord… What's your language called?"

"Gallifreyan."

"Yeah, that. It is, innit?"

"Nah. That was made up by the people writing the songs for the film."

"Oh. Well, that's disappointing."

"Dociousaliexpilisticfragicalirupes, on the other hand… And suoicodilaipxecitsiligarfilacrepus, for that matter, now those words, those are definitely Gallifreyan."

"You're so full of shit," she says, laughing. "Now, go on with your story."

"Right. Yes, she met Pamela Lyndon Travers a few times when she was a child, er, Pamela that is, and, I suppose, she decided to write about it as an adult. Just switched the name and a few details. Mariendirmullianpoppinsar did obviously not do magic, since there is no such thing, and she did _not_ fly by umbrella, let me tell you. She had a _beautiful_ TARDIS, with a functional chameleon circuit and–"

"Oh, you knew her?"

"No. No, we never met. I've heard the stories, though. Or, I should say, cautionary tales," he says, waggling his eyebrows. "She fell in love with a human and stayed on Earth. And she– Well, there are ways if you… And she spent the rest of her life here."

"She didn't regenerate?"

"No."

"Oh. So she gave up that whole way of life? Just left Gallifrey."

"Yep."

"Like you did."

"Well. As you can imagine, those cautionary tales about not ending up like Mariendirmullianpoppinsar didn't quite work on me. Rather fond of this little plan–"

Jackie cuts him off with a loud snort before sitting up straight, blinking. "Oh. Fell asleep, didn't I? Blimey! Didn't even notice," she says, stretching out her curled up legs and grimacing. "Ugh, I'm all stiff. Could do with a footstool, I could." She yawns and gets up on her feet. "Think I'm gonna turn in, sweetheart. We can do the washing up tomorrow."

"Oh, we can take care of it after the film," Rose says.

"We?" Jackie blinks in confusion before her narrowed eyes lands on the Doctor. "Oh, you're still here. So, when are _you_ gonna turn in, then? You're not spending the night, you're not."

"God, mum. We live together. What's to stop me from shagging him every day, if I want to?"

"I don't care about what goes on in that bloody box of his, but I'm not scrubbing alien co–"

"Mum!"

"–off my sofa tomorrow, that's for sure."

"Oh, my god." Rose crosses her arms over her chest and slumps down in the sofa, scowling at the telly, cheeks burning. "Night, _mum_."

"Oh, all right. Night, then. See you tomorrow at breakfast. And I expect the kitchen to be sparkling clean when I wake up, now that you said."

"Yeeees."

"Blimey, you're tetchy," Jackie mumbles, stepping inside her room and shutting the door behind her.

Rose waits several scenes before she dares to look at the Doctor. His hand moves without pause between a box of chocolates and his mouth as he watches the film with great interest. Too great interest. She picks at her nails, one foot tapping against the floor, and racks her brain for something to say, anything to change the subject from shagging on her mum's sofa.

"D'you miss it?"

"Hm?" He turns to her, one cheek poking out as though he's stuffed too many chocolates into his mouth. He swallows, cheek returning to normal. "Miss what?"

"Gallifrey. God, what a dumb question. Of course you do. Was just thinking about Maridimpoppilopp-what's-her-face and you looked, dunno, and I suppose I just mean that you can talk to me. If you want. Tell me things. If you wanna talk about it. Reminisce and that. Maybe about your friends or something. Must've told you all the stupid things me and Shareen did, so just wanna return the favour, you know what I mean?"

"Oh…" He considers her for a moment before his mouth curves into a smile. "Well, I miss…kliomonbrundies. The most brilliant stone fruit. Jam or pie or marmalade, or even truffles, made of kliomonbrundies. Oooh," he says, drawing in a deep breath and tilting his head back. "What I wouldn't give for kliomonbrundy truffles. Not a delicacy of any kind. One of the most common sweets, that. But that's the way it is, isn't it? Those are the things you miss. The things you take for granted, hm?"

"Uhm…I guess? I don't know."

He crinkles his brow. "You don't? Sure, you still have your home planet, but you live in a time-and-space ship, Rose."

"But we visit all the time."

"True. But we're _not_ here more often than not. Don't you miss…stuff?"

"Stuff?" She smiles. "No, not really. Brought the things I want from my old bedroom, see mum all the time, and if I feel like chips, or something from my time, we just pop back."

"Really? Nothing? Not even a little…" He shakes his head and shrugs.

"No."

""C'mon, Rose, you can tell me," he says, mirroring her position so that they're facing one another. "What's _your_ kliomonbrundy truffles?"

"Uhm…" She pauses for a long moment, nibbling her lip, watching him through her lashes. She does miss something, something she's never thought would be an issue in her life, but then she met the Doctor. "Uhm, yeah. I miss…touch."

"Sorry?"

"I miss touch."

"Touch."

"Yeah."

He knits his brow, lips parted. "Eer… We touch."

"No, not really."

"Yes, we do! We…ehm…" He clears his throats and nods at her hand. "Hands. We hold hands."

"When we're running, or in danger. Yeah, we hold hands."

His arms shoots out as he points at her in triumph. "And we hug! At least once a day. Or, well, depends on what we do of course. We've not hugged today… Ah!" He beams at her and holds his arms out in invitation for an embrace, fingers wiggling at her to come closer. "C'mon, then. Daily hug coming right up."

"Doctor. That's not… I meant, like, mum brushing my hair and plaiting it. Or me and Shareen watching Reese Witherspoon films and massaging each other's feet or shoulders. Or just waking up with M– My bloke and feeling him run his fingers up and down my naked back. And cuddle in the sofa and take a kip after eating curry in front of the telly. Stuff like that, all right?"

"Oh. How-how long have you felt like this?"

"Dunno. Time's relative and all."

"You've been with me for two years and three months."

"Oh, god." She huffs out a breath and throws her head back to lean against the backrest. "Yeah, no wonder, then, right? Don't know what it's like for your species, but for mine? We need it. And skin against skin is just…it feels wonderful."

He smiles, eyes crinkling. "Quite. And for a reason. It releases feel good hormones and lowers your stress hormones."

"So that's why we always hug after danger, huh? Or hold hands when something stressful happens."

"Among other reasons." He offers her the last piece of chocolate before putting the box on the table. "You need more, don't you?" he asks, brow furrowed in concern. "Contact, I mean."

"No, no I don't _need_ it." She props the sweet into her mouth, chewing as she talks. "I'm fine. I've just missed it lately. Can't help it. Sometimes I imagine someone just stroking my arm and I _almost_ remember what it feels like. I _almost_ get goosebumps."

"Hm." He sticks his hand into his pocket, fishing out his specs and his sonic. Slipping the former on, he fixes the setting on the latter and directs it at her. "Let's see…"

"Oi!" She snatches the sonic out of his hand. "What are you doing?"

"I'm checking your cortisol levels!"

"What the bloody hell for?"

"Well, I'm worried. It's a very stressful way of life, and I don't want you to feel–"

"Oh, my god. Can't you just be normal?" She glares at him and slides her leg off the sofa, sitting up straight, turned to the telly instead of towards him. "I shouldn't have said anything. Just ignore it. I'm fine."

"Do you want to massage each other's feet?"

"What?" she says through a surprised laugh.

"You said, you and Shareen, just reckoned… We have a film. And feet. And fingers to rub them with. All of it, right here in the flat." He beams and wriggles his fingers at her. "So what d'you say, Rose Tyler? Mutual footrub?"

"Uhm… No, it's okay."

"Oh. Ehm, do you want me to brush your hair, then?"

She raises her eyebrows, smirking. "And plait it?"

"If you like."

"Nah, I'm all right. Thanks, though."

"What about– Well, maybe not–" He swallowed. "But we could…ehm, well, hug on the sofa."

"You mean _cuddle_."

"Well…" he says, tilting his head to the side, eyes averted.

"Doctor, you're very sweet, but you don't need to do this. It makes me feel weird."

His face falls. "Oh."

"It's not…" She sighs, twirling her ponytail around her finger. "Look, I don't want your pity cuddles, all right?"

"They're not pity cuddles, Rose. I'd never cuddle someone out of pity. Well, unless we're on Buddiopia, because there they cuddle for energy. One hour of cuddling could generate enough to power a whole household for half a day! So, if someone was in trouble of–"

"You couldn't even _say_ cuddle at first, Doctor. Tells me quite a lot, it does."

He nods slowly, staring out the window.

"You really want to?"

He shrugs, bottom lip protruding the slightest bit, and she stifles the snickers threatening to bubble out of her.

"All right, then. Lemme just get a blanket. Make things a bit cosy."

When she comes back with a granny square afghan in her arms, she finds the Doctor stripped down to his shirtsleeves and trousers, suit jacket and tie draped over the armrest, specs no longer perched on his nose. Her face blooms into a smile, and she settles down next to him with an ease she doesn't feel, draping the blanket over their knees. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and pulls her closer; she rests her head against his chest, butterflies forming in her stomach.

"Comfy?" he asks, squeezing the shoulder where his hand rests.

"Yeah," she says with a content sigh, but she can't quite get her body to relax.

At first, he feels stiff as well but, as the film rolls and they get caught up in the plot, his hand draws patterns on her arm and the tension leaves his body as she hums and leans even more on him. He shifts to accommodate for her weight until he lies with his back against the armrest with her sprawled over him and she feels his abdominal muscles tighten as he holds them up.

She cranes her neck to look at him. "Comfy?"

He grins. "Not really, no."

"Yeah, it's a bit…"

"Maybe we can…" He moves, so she sits up and watches him climb behind her and stretch out on the sofa, arms open so she can lie down and spoon. "Hm?"

She raises her eyebrows in astonishment but, when she sees his face tensing up, smiles and rushes to curl up next to him. He breathes out, tickling the hairs in the back of her neck, and a shiver runs down her spine. He pulls up the blanket and makes sure the it covers them both, wrapping his arm around her waist, over the blanket. She rolls her eyes in exasperation, but snuggles closer to him and snakes her arm out, covering his hand with hers and twining their fingers together.

On screen, Mr. Banks pronounces supercalifragilisticexpialidocious and her thoughts wander back to Cardiff when she managed to get Raxacoricofallapatorius right. The Doctor hugged her in celebration and, as she pulled back, his hands lingered and brushed against her breast. Just a brief, accidental touch, but it fuelled her fantasies for weeks. She transformed the memory into Jack and the others leaving for some vague reason, and the Doctor sweeping off whatever lay on the table and taking her right then and there. After that, each time they hugged or he pulled her out of danger and his hands landed somewhere he couldn't have intended, she added a new fantasy to her collection.

She swallows, senses honed in on how he lies pressed so close to her, squeezed in between her and the backrest of the narrow sofa. His body has a cooler temperature than hers, but he burns against her, the hand curled right under her breast, scorching through the thin fabric of her cami dress.

"Reckon you should make an umbrella like that," she says, forcing her voice to be steady. "Could come in handy, yeah?"

"Hm… It's not a bad idea. Or at least some sort of hovering setting on the sonic."

"Could be your next tinkering project."

"Yeah."

"Did-did Mar… Oh, I don't remember her name. The real Mary Poppins. Did she have gadgets?"

"As far as I know, yes she did. I suppose that's why the children assumed she could do magic."

"Yeah." She worries her lip for a while, watching the screen without seeing. "What if I fall asleep?"

"Then you fall asleep."

"What about you?"

He breathes out through his nose, sounding like a smile, and pulls her closer still. "I'm comfy."

"Won't you be bored?"

"Nah. Got the remote right here." He leans over her and grabs it from the table, his chest pressing into her ear and cheek. "Don't tell your mother, but I sonicked the telly earlier and if you press this button right here," he says, pointing at the remote, "I can access whichever channel I want directed from the TARDIS as long as she's parked somewhere in the vicinity."

"Clever."

"Well…" He sniffs. "Gotta do something to make this stay bearable."

"Oi!"

"This is the second night here, Rose."

"It's Christmas!"

"Astutely noticed of you. What gave it away? The very non-hostile, definitely not bloodthirsty, decorated festive tree in the corner? Or perhaps the impressive amount of turkey you ate earlier?" He pinches her dress at her waist. "Is that why you chose to wear this loose-fitted thing today?"

"Yeah! It was. Didn't wear any stockings either, 'cause I came prepared. You should've, too, you know. I saw you, belly sticking out and all. Think I even saw a button fly across the room."

He laughs. "Your mother's chestnut stuffing _is_ very good."

"God, mum's chestnut stuffing…" Rose hums. "I wait all year for that. Only thing she knows how to make except Shepherd's pie. And I've tried to make her cook it on my birthday, on other holidays, on just, dunno, a regular Thursday. I've begged, I've threatened, I've manipulated, I've bribed, given her my best puppy dog eyes–"

"Oh, those are _impossible_ to resist."

"Yeah? Tell her that. She refuses to budge! Once a year, I get to eat that. Once, Doctor. And it's my favorite. You know what? I think I'm gonna have some of the leftovers for breakfast tomorrow."

"Mm. Think I can get behind you on that."

"You're already behind me," she says, wiggling her bum to make her point–and freezing when she realises what she's doing. "I'm sorry!" She squeezes her eyes shut, scrunching up her face. "That was weird of me. Wasn't thinking. Oh, my god."

He chuckles. "It's all right."

"I've never really cuddled with a friend before. I guess it's just… Dunno."

"Neither have I. My people weren't exactly…cuddlers."

"Oh. So you don't get that-that feel good hormone, then?" She swallows. "Is this just…"

"No-no. I do. I… We… Ehm. They way we– If someone saw us, ehm, you and me, they'd assume we were…married. I mean, based on our body language, not-not… Anyway, and cuddling like this? Well, they'd assume we were _happily_ married. Because, ehm, most-most marriages were arranged. So, this wouldn't be very…common."

"Oh. This must feel really strange for you, yeah?"

"Nope. I've travelled with humans for a long, long time, Rose. I've spent more time with humans than with my own people, I reckon. I've adapted. Well, converted even, in some ways. Not that I was a very good Time Lord to begin with."

She gasps, touching her chest. "What? What is this I hear? Are my ears deceiving me? You, admitting you're not good at something?"

"I have no problem admitting that. I'd say I'm not very good at, at least, a few things."

She laughs. "Just a few, yeah? Like what."

He draws in a deep breath, chest expanding against her back. "Well. Driving a scooter?"

"Oh, god. It's a miracle I'm alive. You know, one could assume I'd have nightmares about aliens, right, werewolves and metalmen, but _that's_ what haunts me at night. The Doctor driving a scooter."

"Oh, hush you. I wasn't that bad," he says, tickling her ribs.

She laughs, squirming in his embrace. "You really were. Not that I was surprised, considering how you pilot your ship."

"Oi! Don't insult my piloting skills."

"Skills? What skills?"

"Oh, you're gonna regret that."

He attacks her ribs again with merciless pinches and pokes; she shrieks with laughter, kicking her legs in the air, begging between giggles for him to stop. He shoots off a wicked grin and redoubles his effort, settling both knees on either side of her legs, pressing them together as he looms over her. She manages to snake her hands in between them and retaliate, making him recoil enough for her to worm her way out of his grip and trap him between her thighs, squeezing his sides with her hands until he has trouble to stay up from all the laughing. He defends himself with a well-placed nip high up on her side, almost at her armpit, and she yelps so loud her mum storms out of her bedroom; Rose presses her lips together, meeting the Doctor's terrified, round eyes.

"It's two in the morning. Keep it the bloody hell down!" Jackie shouts and shuts her door with a bang.

A smile tugs at Rose's lips, and his mouth twitch as well, eyes sparkling in the dim room. She loses control, bursting into a fit of giggles and sees him do the same. He burrows his head into the sofa cushion, right next to her head, to muffle his laughs; she turns her face into his neck, chuckling into his skin. Her hands resting on his lower back wander higher up until she's hugging him; her legs cradling his hips tighten around him, and he lowers his body a fraction, moving it against hers as the guffaws escaping her body have her writhing underneath him.

It dawns on them on the same time: their bodies touching in places they've never touched before; her dress having rode up to her hips, leaving her legs bare; her lips brushing against his skin; his breath warming her cheek and ear. They freeze. _Chitty Chitty Bang Bang_, the film her mum has taped after _Mary Poppins_, rolls in the background. Outside, a group of people walk over the courtyard, chattering and chortling. The wallclock in the kitchen ticks, slower than her speeding pulse, than his racing hearts. He pulls back; she lets her head fall to the cushion, holding her breath.

The way he looks at her, wide-eyed with parted lips, spreads a warmth inside her that curls in the pit of her stomach, and for a moment she believes that he'll… Her tongue darts out to wet her lips and her eyes drift down to his mouth, but he rolls off her and she exhales in a sigh, turning to face the telly. He resumes his position behind her, arm around her waist, body molded along hers.

"More Dick van Dyke?" he asks.

"Yeah."

"Thought your mum didn't like Bert."

"Yeah, but she likes Caractacus, though."

"Huh."

"Yeah."

"D'you think it's the accent?"

"Might be."

He hums and she can't think of anything else to say. She nibbles on her thumbnail, wiggles her toes, and goes through the evening's topics until she remembers what they talked about before the tickling started, and she smiles in relief.

"What else are you bad at?"

"Hm?"

"You know, scooter driving, TARDIS piloting–"

"Now, don't start. Don't want us to get in trouble, do you?"

"Me? _I'm_ the troublemaker in this relationship?" She closes her eyes, stomach sinking as a flush washes over her. "I mean–"

"Yes, _you_. You, little miss Jeopardy Friendly."

"Oh, you're so full of it. You know what I think? I think you're such a trouble magnet, yeah, you could probably find trouble in a haystack!"

"What? Thought that was needles."

"Oh, dunno. It's two in the morning, apparently. Can't be witty all the time."

"No, you really were grasping at straws there."

"Oh, my god."

"What?" he asks, voice full of laughter.

"That was bad. That goes on the list. Bad at puns."

"What?! I'm _excellent_ at puns. I'm a formidable wordsmith, Rose Tyler. I could out-pun the best of them."

"Yeah? If that were true, though, how come you didn't have a single pun in your response?"

"Ehm… It's two in the morning, apparently?"

"So? You're usually up at this hour. At most hours, actually."

"Sure. But I don't usually have my– Ehm…"

"Have your what?"

He swallows. "Ehm… I… I, ehm… Well."

She rolls over on her other side to face him, breath hitching when she finds his face a lot closer than she anticipated; too close for her to meet his eyes without hers crossing from the effort. If she angles her head and moves closer still… She tilts her chin up, closes her eyes, and waits for him to pull away, but feels warm puffs of breath hitting her skin, his nose nudging hers.

"Oh, what the hell," she whispers and captures his lips.

A jolt shoots through her body and settles down between her thighs when he, instead of hurling himself out of the sofa and running the other way, fists the fabric of her dress and moves his mouth over hers, lips pliant and hot. Her hands travel up his chest, cups his cheeks, his stubble prickling her palms. Their legs tangle and she runs a foot up his calf, pushing up his trouser leg to get to skin. He sucks on her bottom lip, sometimes grazing it with his teeth, and she feels each stroke in the pit of her stomach; she licks his top lip, tasting chocolate and, lingering underneath, a bitter hint of the ale he had at dinner.

A moan rumbles in his chest, flowing from his lips when she tugs them open with her teeth and slips her tongue into his mouth. She scoots closer to the backrest as he moves on top of her, settling between her thighs as he welcomes her soft strokes before chasing after her tongue, sucking on it until wetness pools in her center. Waves of pleasure roll between her core and her stomach as he grips her thighs and she feels his long fingers digging into her bare flesh, his mouth pressing along her jawline until he reaches her earlobe, giving it soft nips. Clasping her feet at the small of his back, she rocks her hips up in search of friction and whimpers when she finds him hard in his trousers. He grinds his erection into her as he traces the swirls of her ear with his tongue, filling her with the sounds of his ragged breathing intertwined with low grunts.

She slips a hand between them, mapping out his chest to find his nipples through the layers of cotton covering him. When she circles one until it hardens and gives it a firm pinch, he moans and slides his hand under her dress, up her stomach and to her breasts where he pulls down the cup of her strapless bra, gentle fingers playing with her nipple. She quivers, bucking her hips each time he grazes a nail over her breast, moaning in the back of her throat when he sucks on a new patch of skin at her neck.

Her other hand wanders down to his trousers, fingers dipping under the waistband, tugging at it. "Please…"

He pauses. "Are you–"

"Oh, _god_, yes. I want you, Doctor."

"Don't you need more–"

"No."

She takes his hand and moves it down to her center, helping him inside her knickers, guiding his fingers to show him how ready she is for him. He breathes out an 'oh' and she arches her back, moving her hips quicker than his hand to show him to speed up, whimpering as he pleasures her.

"_Please_. In-in-in."

He fumbles with the fastenings of his trousers, tugging them down with her help and slipping out of his boxer briefs as well. She wraps her fingers around him, watching his eyes drift shut, his chest moving as he emits shaky breaths.

"Ready?"

He licks his lips and nods; she positions him just right and encourages him to push into her by lifting her hips and pressing down her feet on his bum. She bites back a moan when he buries himself inside her and she curls her hands around his shoulders, nuzzling his neck. He pulls back and fills her up again, breathing out filthy words in her ear, words she never thought she'd hear him say, that send thrills down her body.

They rock together for a moment before he sets a slow, steady pace, lavishing her neck, throat and jaw with kisses. She tilts her hips to make the angle better for her, pleasure coiling inside her as he moves. She cups his cheeks and brings his mouth to hers, the sensations coursing through her too mind numbing for her to give him anything but sloppy, wet kisses. She releases his mouth with a strangled moan when her orgasm crashes through her, radiating out into her limbs as she comes so hard her vision turns white and her ears ring.

It takes her a moment to land, to open her eyes and see the man she loves move on top of her. She can't help but smile as she watches him come, his eyes shut and mouth open as he groans out his release, features lit by colourful Christmas decorations blinking in the flat. He slumps over her with a final shudder and she welcomes the weight of him, snuggling her face into the crook of his neck. He hums in her ear before seeking out her lips, stealing deep, lazy kisses as he rolls them to lie on their sides with one of her legs slung over his hip.

"You okay?" he asks, sliding out of her.

"Okay?" She laughs. "That was amazing."

"Mm." He brushes his lips over hers. "It was, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Definitely not on the bad list."

He chuckles and ghosts his fingertips over her cheek. "You know, Rose. As your doctor, I highly recommend that you repeat this quite often. Ehm…to keep your cortisol levels in check, of course."

She grins, tongue poking out between her teeth. "Of course."

"And I suggest you do it…a few times per week?" he asks, eyebrows raised.

She scoffs.

"Oh. Too-too often? Ehm, once every week?"

"God, you're daft. I was thinking more along the lines of, uhm, _daily_."

"Oooh," he says, cupping her cheek and pressing kisses to her lips. "Yes, that would probably be a more effective treatment."

"If it were up to me, Doctor," she says, fumbling after the afghan and pulling it up over them. "I'd make sure we were the least stressed people in the universe."

"I see. Well, I always did say that you're very clever. Brilliant, really."

She cuddles closer to him, nosing him in the hollow of his throat. "Mmm…"

"Rose? Are you falling asleep?"

"Yeah. Side effect."

"Ah. Yes, I've heard of those," he says, hugging her closer.

* * *

.

* * *

Rose stirs awake from featherlight strokes over her back, under her dress, and she hums in appreciation, stretching her body and feeling a pleasant ache in her limbs. She just lies for a moment, revelling in his caresses and thinking back on last night, stomach swooping as she replays in her mind what happened, and the promises of it happening daily from now on. She lets out a pleased giggle, biting her lip as she grins.

"Morning." He presses his lips to her shoulder. "Slept well?"

"Mm."

"And…how are you, ehm, how– Well…" He plays with one strap of her cami dress. "How are you feeling?"

"My bloke wakes me up by running his fingers up and down my back. What do you think?"

He makes a delighted sound in the back of his throat. "Thought you'd like it." He brushes his nose up her neck and kisses the junction where it meets her jaw. "We should probably get dressed before–"

The door to Jackie's room opens and she shuffles into the living-room, hair a rumpled mess, mascara and blue eyeshadow smudged around her eyes, pink dressing gown wrapped around her body. She walks straight into the kitchen without a glance in their direction and hurls out a string of loud curses, marching straight back out again and stopping when she notices her daughter curled up with the Doctor on the sofa. They smile at her, toothy and wide; Jackie's narrowed eyes wander over them, over the Doctor's pants lying on top of his trousers in a pile on the floor, and her face turns red, mouth falling open as she sucks in a large breath.

"Hi, mum. We–"

"Oh, I can't believe this! You promised you'd do the washing up–"

"We can still–

"–and instead you shag on the sofa? On _my sofa_? I saved up to buy that sofa for a whole year, Rose. A year! Was one of the first pieces of furniture I ever bought with my own money!"

"I'm sorry–"

"Your bloody room is right over there." Jackie flings her arm out, pointing. "And _your_ bloody box is right outside, but that's not good enough for you, is it? No, you just _had to_ go and squirt your alien come all over my furniture, didn't you?"

"That's not-that's–"

"And how am I supposed to get that out? What if I can't!? I don't even know what it does!"

"What? Nothing! It does _nothing_!"

"For all I know, you might just as well have knocked up the sofa! Did you knock up the sofa? Will it give birth to tiny little armchairs, then? Or a footstool maybe?"

"What?!"

"I know I said I could do with a footstool but, like a normal human, I'm going to the bloody shop and buying one! No need to mate with the furniture, you plonker! And if you think–"

"Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious!" the Doctor shouts.

Jackie blinks at him. "Pardon?"

"Eeer, why don't you go back to bed, Jackie, and we'll take care of all of it, hm? We'll clean up the mess. Not that there is a mess. Nope. The_hypothetical_ mess."

"And the real mess in the kitchen," Rose says.

"Yes! And the real mess in the kitchen. And we'll cook breakfast!"

Jackie regards them for a second. "And give it to me in bed?"

"Ehm…" The Doctor glances at Rose and she nods. "Of course!"

"In about an hour? So I can go back to sleep for a bit."

"Absolutely. Two, if you want."

"And no more shagging on the sofa?"

"Nope. None."

"Oh, all right, then. But I want a proper fry up and a cuppa. And someone really ought to go down to the shop and get a few things for lunch. Are you cooking lunch, too?"

"Yes! Not a problem. We'll take care of it. All of it. Just," he says, motioning to her to leave the room, "go back to bed."

"All right," Jackie says with a wide grin, and they breathe out in relief as she disappears to her room.

Rose hides her head in his chest. "I'm so sorry about that."

"Well," he says, stroking her back. "It was worth it."

She lifts her head to look at him. "Yeah?"

"Oh, yes." He nuzzles her nose. "I'd do it again."

"Hm, in that case…" She reaches down between them and cups his morning erection, running her fingers up his length, scratching his sack. "Doctor, I think it's time for my treatment."

"But-but-but…your mother."

"I can already hear her snoring."

He cocks an ear, expression brightening. "Oh, would you look at that. Well, then. Get ready, Rose Tyler, 'cause the Doctor's in."

She giggles, guiding him onto his back as she straddles his hips. "Oh, he will be. He definitely will be."

* * *

**the end**


End file.
